‘Food, glorious food: Why I can’t wait to dig into a dysfunctional family dinner’
Ever since the UK government imposed a coronavirus lockdown, many of us have been surprised to discover that it’s the little things – not the extravagant or the particularly earth-shattering – that we’ve missed the most. The Independent lifestyle desk’s new essay series, Life After Lockdown, is an ode to everything we took for granted in the pre-Covid world – and the things we can’t wait to do once again when normality eventually resumes.
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Oh, my stomach. What I wouldn’t give for one of my mum’s hearty stews, overzealously spiced curries or Sunday roasts that come piled so high with all the trimmings that the gravy inevitably spills off the plate and onto my favourite T-shirt.
In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been thinking about food a lot since Covid-19 put us all into lockdown. On a continual loop in fact, but, that’s not an entirely new occurrence. When I was a child, family dinner time was non-negotiable, a chance to catch up, irritate your siblings and start an argument over who gets the last sausage.
Back then, the soggy vegetables and sugary condiments didn’t hold much significance to me. But now, as an adult who has not sat down to a meal with her extended family for months on end, I’m starting to realise just how important it is.
As we approach our fourth month of lockdown, life for many of us feels unrecognisable to the one we knew before and among the elements of our lives that have been hardest hit, dysfunctional dinner scenes have become something to remember wistfully. It's perhaps no surprise then, that being barred from congregating around a table with my loved ones is something I am feeling most strongly.
I haven’t lived with my parents or siblings for more than 10 years now. We all live our separate lives, have gone on to pursue careers and have children, but no matter how busy we all got, we would always make time to indulge in a home-cooked, all-day-eating, veg-on-the-sofa-in-a-food-coma affair.
Dinner time at the Young’s is not for the faint of heart, or stomach. There are stacks of plates, five conversations going on at once, bickering and regression to child/parent roles. But that’s just the way we like it and I can’t wait to get it back.
We would always make time to indulge in a homecooked, all-day-eating, veg-on-the-sofa-in-a-food-coma affair
With all the joys of modern technology, we have attempted to host virtual family meetings over video calls but, let’s face it, not much beats digging into dinner surrounded by you and yours passing plates up and down the table like a synchronised swimming team. It’s foodie bliss and communicating over a phone is a poor consolation prize.
Last month, Boris Johnson gave those of us longing to reunite over the dinner table some good news, announcing that as of 4 July, friends and family can finally start to meet up again. But, like most other examples of restriction easing, doing so comes with a hefty set of rules.
You can socialise indoors but with just one household at a time, or meet outdoors with a maximum of six people – both of which require social distancing, remaining vigilant when using the loo, avoiding sharing plates and, perhaps the most difficult of all, among my loved ones that is, no shouting. The rules are there for a reason, of course, but it just won't feel the same.
One of the things I have come to realise is that food can offer a moment of pure emotional pleasure during an otherwise hard and difficult time and that part of the joy of eating is sharing the experience. It’s about so much more than survival and I know the truth of this now, that I haven’t raised a forkful of something delicious with my family for some time, perhaps more than I ever did before.
Eating together is a small act and when life picks up speed I am sure it will become easy for family meals to fall to the wayside, but it is only when everything that resembles “normal” is thrown out the window that we begin to crave the comfort of the profoundly familiar.
The things we once took for granted, sitting sardine-like around the dinner table, now seem so precious.
